


One rose is enough for the dawn

by Speedybox



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood, Fighting, Fluff, Horses, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Sword Fighting, based off the youtube animatic, castle - Freeform, minor injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speedybox/pseuds/Speedybox
Summary: Virgil doesn't know what's going on with the kingdom. He doesn't know where his best friend Roman has gone. He barely knows what he's doing himself. But he does know that the answers to all of his questions lie in the castle, where a dangerous enemy lurks, with thorns as his weapon and roses as a disguise





	One rose is enough for the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen @thepastelpeach 's animatic yet, you really should! It's so good!  
> It's called: [Ready As I'll Ever Be]- Sanders Sides Animatic
> 
> This is my interpretation of what happens just after the animatic ends.

The city was dark.

Not the type of dark you could dispel with a warm campfire, or a guiding torch.

 This was the type of darkness that no matter where you ran, it would follow. This was the type of darkness that would hide a watching predator. This was the type of darkness that was the lingering, twisting, wrenching feeling you get in your gut when there’s something really, really wrong.

For Virgil, this was the type of darkness that felt like home.

He shivered in his tunic, the cold of the night creeping down his neck and through the tears in his clothes. Behind him stood his friends and some more of the townsfolk who’d managed to escape when everything went… crazy.

Despite the rousing battle cry of before, their makeshift army was silent now, as they stood facing the huge gate, weapons drawn.

Virgil glanced back, feeling their eyes on him. He had never had attention like this before. He had never captivated a crowd of people, never spoken words so rousing they had brought about a heroic chant like that. These people, these simple villagers who’d never known fear in their lives, were ready to fight back, were ready to risk it all, because of _him._ Because of what he’d been through.

Because of what he knew.

He caught Patton’s eye. The young man grinned, but Virgil knew that smile. An attempt to hide away, to disguise his true feelings, to lift others’ morals while his were so low. Patton was terrified. But he stood tall and proud with Logan by his side, and stood his ground.

Virgil had never been more proud.

He took a breath, gripping the red sash around his neck, and nodded to two men nearby. They approached the gate which stood between their army and the city, and gripped the handles on either side. Virgil gritted his teeth, and met their eyes as they yanked open the gates.

“FOR THE KINGDOM!” He cried, voice raw with feeling, with fear. And the army charged.

Under him, his horse let out a whinny and started forward, hooves thundering on the damp earth. A roar sounded out from behind him, echoing across the city and into the palace.

As soon as he was through the gates, the people inside stormed forward. Around every corner somebody lurked, eyes hungry, holding weapons and tools and whatever they could find. They filled the streets and they were angry.

Virgil knew it would be bad in here. Whatever had happened to make his fellow citizens like this, he knew that the answer would lie in the palace.

A person in a green tunic lunged at him from the side. Virgil yanked back on the reins, narrowly avoiding a savage strike from their axe, and his stomach dropped as he recognised their face. It was Joan, from the palace. They worked with Logan, as a supervisor, and Virgil had known them for what seemed like forever.

“Joan! Joan, please, it’s me!”

Paying him no mind, Joan lunged again, this time aiming for the horse. Virgil yelled out, hand reaching for his sword.

“Joan, what are you doing?! What’s going on? Why are you-ah! Attacking us?”

It was as if he was yelling at a brick wall. Well, a brick wall that was trying to kill him, that is. From behind him, he heard Logan, pleading in a similar way with another villager. _These were their friends._

“Why are you doing this?” Virgil murmured, struggling to control his horse. “What happened to you? To everyone?”

He heard Logan cry out and whirled round to see a fierce duel taking place. The advisor seemed to falter for a second, as if realising something, and then quickly disarmed the attacker, gripping them for a second and then releasing them to the floor, unconscious. Virgil barely had time to be impressed before Logan yelled out to him and the rest of the army.

“Don’t hurt them! They’re under a spell! If we can find what caused it they’ll go back to normal!”

Patton was close by, trying to avoid a terrifying old lady who was coming at him with a saucepan in one hand and a broom in the other.

“How- uh- are we- ahh!- Supposed to- nope, nope, nope- not hurt them, if they won’t stop-ahh!- attacking us?”

Virgil took a look at Joan, coming at him again with the axe. Then he glanced back at his army. Despite the fact that they were quite low in numbers, they were holding on. They seemed to have heard Logan, and were engaging with the attackers but trying not to hurt them.

He looked up at the palace, a dark tower with one light that shone from the very top. And then he turned, holding his sword up towards the sky.

“Listen up! We need you to stay here, keep the villagers busy! Please try not to hurt them! We’re going to stop this! We’re going to stop all of this! Hold on for me!”

Taking a heavy breath, he urged his horse towards Logan and Patton.

“Get on! We’re going to fix this!”

They stared at him for a second. Patton was the first to clamber on, the last traces of his grin fading. Logan glanced back towards the fighting people, anxious to protect them.

“Logan. We’re going to save them. _You can trust me._ ”

Virgil locked eyes with him, silently begging.

_Please, haven’t I proved myself by now? I’m not going to let anyone get hurt. Not again. Logan, please._

Finally, the advisor clenched his fists and nodded, letting Patton pull him onto the horse.

And then they were off.

They galloped through the streets, twisting and turning, this way and that way. Virgil knew all the shortcuts to the palace. They would be there in no time.

They passed the blacksmith. The library. The alchemist’s. The market.

Soon, the palace loomed.

The front gates weren’t guarded as they scrambled off the horse, sprinting inside. Virgil took the lead, the red sash around his neck flowing out behind him.

Dashing up the lavish staircases, Virgil expected to hear screaming, fighting. He expected to hear an enemy. An evil. A dragon-witch, or a corrupt general, _anything._

But the castle was silent. The wind echoed through the hallways as they sprinted the familiar route to King Thomas’s throne room.

As they rounded the last corner, the three heroes found themselves face to face with six huge guards. They were clad in heavy iron armour, the emblem of the kingdom across their chests. When they caught sight of Virgil, running full tilt towards them, they quickly drew their weapons and hurtled towards him, blank eyes staring, weapons glinting in the torchlight.

Virgil swung his sword, catching one of them in the chin with the butt of his sword. Then he whirled, taking on another, as Patton and Logan joined the fight. Patton darted from guard to guard, taking out their legs from under them, stabbing at their backs before flitting away. Logan hurled potions and spells, his voice ringing in their ears as he chanted, lobbing potion after potion at the guards.

But they weren’t going down. These guards were highly trained and extremely strong. They weren’t going to be defeated that easily.

Outside, a large explosion sounded from the direction of the square. Hearing this, Virgil realised that if they didn’t stop this madness soon, too many people would be hurt.

He blocked an attack with his sword, grunting with the force of it, and looked back at Logan and Patton. They were working as one, fluid in their movements, and were grinning, and Virgil didn’t know whether it was in fear or exhilaration.

Logan caught his eye and motioned towards the huge double doors that they knew King Thomas would be behind.

 _Go._ He mouthed. _We’ll hold them off._

Virgil nodded in thanks, and, evading a blow from one of the larger guards, scrambled out of the way behind a pillar. The burly guard looked around for a second, confused, but in his dazed state, it didn’t matter too much. He turned towards Logan and Patton, leaving Virgil just enough time to slip behind them all.

With the sounds of the fight in his ears, Virgil gulped, and tugged open the doors, slipping quietly inside. As the doors softly shut behind him, the sound of the fight was immediately muffled.

The throne room was as impressive as ever. Pictures lined the walls, of the royal family and their kingdom, some joyous, some protective. All noble. Virgil recognised Thomas in a few; as a baby, as a young boy, and in the most recent one, the final painting, as a king. His face was soft, gentle. Thomas had never wanted to be king. But he loved his kingdom. So, he did what was right.

At the end of the room, was the throne. It wasn’t that big, but still held a commanding presence over the rest of the chamber. A window above it cast silver light into the room, and, staring up at the moon, Virgil almost forgot why he was there. What was going on outside?

Gazing up, he wished he could stand there forever, in the light of the moon.

And then the façade shattered. Something was at his throat, something cold. Something metallic.

He reached for his sword, but the person behind him caught his hand with a tight grip and held it in place.

Fear pooled in Virgil’s chest. The person's breath tickled at his neck.

“What have you… done to our kingdom?”

Virgil murmured, body tense as the knife was pressed into his throat. He tried to crane his neck round to see who was doing it, but the knife pressed further, drawing a line of blood. He hissed at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut.

And then the man spoke. Virgil’s eyes filled with tears as he realised that all his fears were true.

“Hey, my chemically-imbalanced Romance…”

That oh-so-familiar-voice poured into his ears and down into his chest, settling like a dark fog. Smooth, silky, golden. Virgil had known this voice so well. But now it was _different._

“What do you mean, ‘our kingdom’, Virg?” He leaned over Virgil’s shoulder, smirking. “This kingdom is mine, now. I’m the ruler, Virgil. I’m the _king_.”

The knife pulled away, but Virgil didn’t move as Roman, the one who knew him the most out of anybody, the one who he could turn to, the one who was brash and loud and _comforting_ , sauntered away and turned to face him.

“ _Roman_ …”

The knight- no, king- raised his arms, a lopsided smirk on his face.

“Are you proud of me, Virgil? Look at what I’ve _done._ Look at what I’ve _created._ The people, they _love_ me. They’re fighting for me. They’re protecting _me.”_

“ _Roman, what happened to you?”_

Virgil’s voice came out as nothing more than a whisper, as he stared up at Roman. He wore a cloak of pure black, and a crown of roses. Though they seemed to be living, and as strong as any normal flower, their petals were like wisps of obsidian, completely black, and completely sinister. Despite his confidence, he looked sunken, as if he hadn’t slept for days. His usually bright face was ashen and grey, and his eyes…

His eyes were dark. Sleepy.

Virgil lowered his eyes, pulse racing.

“Roman, _stop.”_

 _“_ Stop _what,_ Sunshine? There’s nothing you can do now, just face it. _I won.”_

Virgil winced, stepping forward.

“This isn’t you. This has never been you. You’d never hurt Thomas or the town. You’re not greedy, or power-hungry, you- “

Roman lunged for Virgil’s throat, lifting him up as he seethed. Virgil flailed in the air, clawing at Roman’s fists, but to no avail. Roman had always been strong. And whatever was happening to him was making him stronger.

“You _never knew me._ You never stopped to think, to _listen._ I worked so hard for everything I did, and I still had _nothing._ Virgil, for all your incessant worrying you sure didn’t worry about me!”

Roman’s grip grew tighter and Virgil gasped for breath, eyes closed tight with fear.

“ _Roman, I- I’m sorry- I’m sorry that you- uh!- th-think you had to -ah- do this to be impor…important. B-but you are. You always h-have been. To me. To everyone. R-roman, you’re the -unh- best knight in th-the city! The most f-faithful friend in the kingdom.”_

Roman steely gaze met Virgil’s pleading eyes. He was almost out of oxygen gasping and still clawing away.

“ _We… we need you, Roman. I need you. Come… back to us. Come back t-to us.”_

For a second, everything went still. And then, just as Virgil’s eyes were fluttering closed, Roman’s opened wide. His grip loosened and he flinched, recoiling for a second, dropping Virgil to the floor.

He looked up at Roman in shock, as he lay panting and wheezing on the ground and caught his eyes.

They were brown. Golden, familiar, beautiful, brown. So many time’s he nearly drowned in those eyes, but this time they were going to save him.

Roman’s face contorted in fear, and he knelt, taking Virgil’s hand.

“Virgil, Virgil, I’m sorry. You have to save them. Please, Virge, _save them. Save me.”_

He gasped, and his eyes flashed, just for a second.

“R-roman.” He coughed, taking in a huge breath. “How do I save you?”

The two stared for a second, caught in the silence.

“The roses,” Roman breathed. “It’s the roses.”

Virgil’s eyes flickered up to the crown of black roses atop Roman’s head. And when his gaze moved back to Roman’s eyes, he realised that the colour had drained away, and those soulless orbs were staring back at him, with malice.

The king let go of Virgil’s shuddering hands, and stood up to his full height, leering down at the injured boy.

“Look at what you’ve done to me now, Virgil. I am a _king._ How dare you make me _kneel!”_

Virgil said nothing.

Roman drew his sword and pointed it down at him.

“I should kill you now. I should kill you right here. You’re never going to stop trying to defeat me, are you?”

The tip of the blade pressed against Virgil’s throat, and he swallowed, the area still sore from where he’d been grabbed.

Roman drew back the sword, raising it up, preparing to strike, moonlight glinting on the sword and on his eyes, wicked smile on his lips, and-

He faltered.

Just for a second.

But that’s all Virgil needed.

He rolled to one side, stumbling to his feet as the king turned to him, fire in his eyes, and drew his sword.

“I don’t want to fight you, Roman, but you gave me no choice.”

The other did not answer, but strode forward, the smile gone from his lips. He held out his blade, lifted it, and-

_They fought._

Swinging and blocking and lunging and grasping and yelling, Roman pressed forward, with a sharper sword and years of fighting skill and _confidence,_ and Virgil defended; a block here, a parry here, a dodge, a roll. His footwork was wobbly, his stance was wrong, but he is strong. He is defiant. This is the most important fight of his life and he is going to win it. _He is going to save Roman._

Suddenly their swords collided and met, with the sound of screeching metal. Virgil gritted his teeth, straining against the sheer force of Roman’s blow. Roman let out a roar, a primal scream, and pushed, shoved, rammed everything he had into Virgil’s blade. But he did not give up. He did not let go.

“Virgil! Give up! You can’t win this, you know. My people will destroy you. My guards will tear apart every ally you have!”

Virgil did not heed him, but poured all of his focus into holding up his sword. His arms were aching, his neck throbbed, he could still barely breathe, but something was helping him hold on. Nothing could stop him. Nothing.

And then he let go. He faltered, letting his blade fall.

So Roman went for it.

Virgil dodged, easily, letting Roman’s momentum carry him forward. He whirled around locking eyes with the King as he passed by, a wild look in his eyes. And then he reached, and grabbed, and hoped and hoped and hoped-

And his fingers touched cold thorns, brushed against dark petals. He clutched the flower crown, and watched, frozen, as Roman fell to his knees in front of him.

The young man turned, eyes wide and brown and stunning, the crown gone from atop his head.

“Virgil…”

Virgil smiled weakly at Roman.

“Hey there.”

And then he collapsed. The hand in which he clutched the flower crown fell to the stone, blood pooling as the sharp thorns dug into his skin.

Roman scrambled to his side, bewildered and dazed, as Virgil lay on the floor. His eyes were open, but they focused on nothing.

 

And then came a voice.

 

 

_hello, Virgil._

_i can give you what you want, you know._

_i can take away your fear._

_you’ll be able to live the rest of your life in safety, surrounded by the ones you love…_

_you’ll be free of anxiety._

Virgil opened his eyes but all he could see was a horrifying, blinding, yellow light.

“Who… are you?”

_you don’t need to know that._

_if you accept my offer, you’ll be free._

_you’ll be safe._

“Did you do this to Roman? Was it you who caused all of this?”

_you’ll be safe, Virgil._

_Listen to me_

_i-_

“NO! No! get away from me! Get away from us!”

_Don’t you want to be free from all this fear? All this pain? You live your life in a constant state of panic. Don’t you want to be happy?_

“I _am_ happy, you monster. I may be terrified of everything but I’ve accepted that I will always be anxious. I have accepted that _this is my life._ And… I’m happy here. I go through hell _every. Day._ Sometimes it’s impossible for me to get out of bed in the morning. But I have friends around me who _care._ They _do._ So, you can get the _fuck_ away from me, and all my friends, and my city, and my kingdom. This is who I am. You will never change that. _You will never change that.”_

 

 

And then Virgil opened his eyes. And he was in Roman’s arms, clutching the flower crown, but it was dying. Wilting under his touch. Virgil clenched his fist and the crown crumbled to dust in his fingers.

“Hey, sunshine.”

Roman was looking towards him, a soft smile on his face. His eyes were that earthy, rich brown again and his touch was so gentle, so reserved, that Virgil could barely believe it.

“Hey, Princey.”

They stayed like that for a second, before Roman gathered Virgil into his arms for a warm hug. He grasped the back of Virgil’s tunic, face buried in his shoulder, tears brimming in his eyes.

“I’m so, so, sorry. I should never have listened, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, I never meant it, I-”

Virgil pulled back, smiling, and gripped his shoulders.

“Hey. I know that. You would _never_ do that, really. That wasn’t you, okay? That wasn’t you.”

Roman sniffled, the light of the moon pouring down on his face. Despite his usual charisma and strength, he knew that around Virgil, he could be vulnerable. That he wouldn’t have to _hide._

He looked up.

Virgil was staring, strands of pink hair falling over his eyes, cheeks tear-stained and flushed from the fight. Staring, right at him, into his eyes.

Roman was staring straight back.

He felt something grow in his chest, burning and lifting and _huge._ And then it all happened so quickly. He was leaning in, forehead on Virgil’s, hand in his hair, hand on his cheek, breath warm and mingling and then-

“Sorry to interrupt, boys, but I think I might have something you need.”

Roman felt like glass was shattering in his chest. His head snapped to the side, looking at the throne at the back of the room, where the voice had come from. And a sinking feeling filled his chest. He felt Virgil move away from him, saw the faint blush on his pale cheeks, the confusion in his eyes.

Roman stood up, facing the man on the throne.

“ _You._ ”

The man was sat, sprawled across the chair. He wore a tall hat and a cape not unlike the one that roman was wearing, and one of his eyes was glowing bright yellow. One of his gloved hands was clenching a chain. Roman’s eyes followed the chain to…

_Thomas._

The king was in bad shape. He had blood on his tunic, his hair was a mess, his eyes were sunken. He knelt beside the throne, hands tied up in cuffs, and although he looked tired, he was still fighting, tugging and jerking at the chains to try and free himself.

When he looked up and caught sight of Virgil, he burst into a warm smile.

“Virgil! It is _So Good. To see you!”_

Roman looked offended but didn’t say anything (he had literally kingnapped him, tried to overthrow the kingdom and almost killed one of his best friends).

Virgil stood up and took his place beside Roman, sword drawn.

“You did this? You?”

The man on the throne looked amused.

“Yes, Virgil. I did. It was easy to trick Princey over here, and he did most of the work for me!” He laughed, and Roman’s fist clenched. “Shame you had to break the spell, though. It was going so well!”

“You do realise we’re going to destroy you now, right?”

The man laughed. It was a horrible, grating laugh, that ripped along Virgil’s insides like a blade.

“I wouldn’t be so _sure._ Come any closer-” he pulled out a long, sharp knife, and pointed it towards Thomas, who swallowed and leaned away from the blade. “And your precious _king_ gets the knife. Then who will rule?”

He smirked.

Nobody moved.

And then, suddenly, the huge doors to the throne room slammed open and two figures ran inside.

“Sorry we’re late to the party!”

Patton and Logan stood at the front of the chamber, looking pretty worse for wear. Patton was limping, and blood poured from his nose, and Logan was sporting a huge scorch mark on his face, from a spell gone wrong, presumably. Behind them through the door, Roman could see a pile of bodies. Some were still breathing. Some were not.

“Ah, finally. _The gangs all here.”_

The man laughed, eyes glinting.

“What are you going to do, destroy me with the power of _friendship?_ Puh-lease. Come on, Logan, Patton. Let’s have a little chat. Come stand beside Roman and- wait, what?”

Virgil wasn’t standing next to Roman anymore.

In the commotion of Patton and Logan’s entrance, Virgil had taken his chance and _ran._

Not away.

But towards the danger. Towards the Man on the throne. Towards Thomas.

He had darted behind the throne whilst they had been talking, and slowly, slowly, freed the king from his restraints. They met eyes just as the man on the throne realised, and both sprung away, back to where the others stood. Now they were a team, Virgil realised, facing off against their enemy.

Virgil.

Roman.

Patton.

Logan.

And Thomas.

They were going to save the kingdom.

They were going to save _everyone!_

The man stood up, enraged, and lifted a hand, building up some sort of magic. Logan stepped forward, countering it with a bright blue flash of light.

The man snarled, and pounced towards them, raising his knife to stab down at one of them, _any of them_ but his rage had driven him to distraction, and he was easily avoided.

Virgil yelled out as he lunged, aiming his sword where he knew it would hurt.

“WHO ARE YOU?”

The man dodged, quickly reaching up to grab Virgil’s sword and twist it out of his grip. But Roman was there too quickly. The man was knocked out of the way, but not quite knocked down.

“I AM DECEIT. THIS KINGDOM WAS GOING TO BE _MINE.”_

King Thomas stood up, his family behind him.

“No. This is not a kingdom to own. This is not a kingdom to rule. These people-” He gestured out towards the town- “Are my family. And we will _protect them. We will fight for them.”_

The man named Deceit took a breath and glared at the group, livid.

“You think you can protect these people? These people who turned on their friends, turned on their _family?_ Roman himself turned on you just because of his lust for power! Don’t you see? There’s evil in _everybody. I’m just like you.”_

Deceit sprung forward, swinging his sword, but so did Thomas. And so did Logan. And Patton. And Roman. And Virgil.

Time seemed to stop for a moment.

 The five friends, the _family_ , were still.

Deceit was still.

He was motionless in front of them, arms still raised, face still a picture of malevolence.

Frozen.

And then time started again, and the man known as deceit collapsed to the floor. For a second, he stared back at them, and then closed his eyes.

“No. You’re not like us.”

“Nobody is like us.”

The world erupted in light. Blinding, bright, yellow light. Virgil shielded his eyes as the brightness seemed to spread, overwhelming and vast. He laughed in the face of it all, tears rolling down his cheeks, and felt Roman grab his hand in the confusion of it all.

Soon, their eyes adjusted, as sunlight poured into the room, a mixture of pink and gold and red, spreading over the photos on the walls and dripping through the window behind the throne.

The five of them stood, bathed in gold, in a circle, and knew that they had done it.

_They had won._

“Deceit… he’s gone.”

Between them, the stones were empty. Nothing remained. Everything was silent.

King Thomas glanced around at his closest friends. Roman and Virgil were holding hands, gripping one another tightly as they smiled in relief. Patton was laughing, and, despite his injured leg, took a running leap at a beaming Logan, who caught him in his arms. They all flopped to the ground, exhausted, and stared up, the sunrise filtering through the windows onto their faces.

“Who’s ready to go and try and explain all this?”

They all laughed, giddy with exhaustion and relief and exhilaration. Virgil rolled over to face Roman, still clutching his hand.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

 


End file.
